As Tears Roll By
by Angel of Fate
Summary: After so many years, she fell back into his world. She needed him to save her, he needed to put the past behind him. Pretty much Woodycentric, shades of WJ
1. Chapter 1

**As Tears Roll By**

**Disclaimer:** _If I said that I owned the rights to "Crossing Jordan" would you believe me anyway? Didn't think so. Also, the title is stolen from the title of a Daniel Lanois song that really has nothing to do with the story, but beautiful song/title nonetheless. I highly recommend his work._

**Summary:** _After so many years, she fell back into his world. She needs him to save her, he needed to put it all past him._

**Pairing:** _Eventually W/J, but it's mostly a Woody-centric fic._

**Rating:** _PG13,for possible abuse later on in the fic (don't want to spoil, but I also want to give fair warning for those not comfortable)._

**AN:** _Okay, this fic has been nagging at my brain for quite some time now. After tearing it up (not literally of course, 'cause it was all written on the comp) and rewriting pretty much everything save the first few paragraphs, I think I may have stumbled onto what I wanted. Now, just before I finished this up I chanced upon "The Long Way Home" by Sweetrush37, just want to let you know that this fic will be completely different even though the summary may sound kind of similar. (Awesome fic, by the way! Hee, loving every second of it!)_

_On a sort of off-topic **AN **I posted a "Fanfic Challenge" at the fanfiction portion of the CJ Coffeeroom boards.__Just a heads up if you're interested in it! (The web address isn't showing up, but I'm sure most of you know where to find it :wink:)_

_Onto the story…enjoy! (Any/all comments and feedback welcome. Constructive or otherwise)_

Woodrow Hoyt walked through the large doors of the Boston Police Department. He was boyishly handsome, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that, at the moment, seemed extremely tired. He rubbed a hand over his face and stifled a yawn. He'd pulled an all nighter working on a case. Woody had called it quits sometime around five in the morning. Just long enough to drive home, shower, shave and do it all over again. It had been one of those weeks and from the look of the overcast sky that he'd left when he entered the building, the old expression "when it rains, it pours" was about to become quite literal.

"Morning Hoyt," a voice acknowledged from behind a stack of paperwork and file folders.

"Hey Flynn," Woody gave a solemn nod to the uniformed cop.

"You have a visitor," he wagged his blond brows and jerked his head in the direction of the interrogation room.

"Huh?" Woody unintelligently asked. Who could have came to see him in the hour that he had been gone from work?

"Yeah," Flynn replied, once again motioning to the interrogation room. "She's in there."

"Oh?" Now it was Woody's eyebrows that shot up. "She?"

"You deaf Hoyt?" Flynn grunted. "She. Good looking broad too. Brunette, great legs, you know the drill."

Woody smiled. He definitely knew someone that fit that description. He suspected Jordan Cavanaugh, a medical examiner that he'd befriended over the years. He and Jordan were easing into a relationship that was on the verge of being a bit more than platonic. And if she had coffee with her, Woody was ready to throw that platonic garbage out the window and plant a big ol' kiss on her lips.

He stood and straightened out his tie. Still smiling, Woody opened the door to the room and tried not to let it slap with a loud bang behind him, as it usually did. There was a woman looking through the two-way mirror, her back to the door, her reflection barely visible in the wavy glass. Her heeled foot was tapping wildly against the cement floor and only stopped when she turned around and saw his face.

"Woody," she breathed a sigh of relief.

Woody, however, held his breath in. That was not Jordan. That was Annie West. His ex-fiancée that he had left back in Kewaunee, Wisconsin when he had moved to Boston. It had been years since he had seen her and somehow he had forgotten just how pretty she was. She had brown hair that fell smoothly to her shoulders, a little longer than he remembered, and a spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. But her green eyes were saddened and her lower lip had a deep cut that was beginning to heal, although it probably still needed stitches.

"Annie?" he asked, unsure if he was perhaps imagining things.

"Woody," she repeated, her voice now wavering.

Tears sprung to her eyes so fast that Woody wondered if they were always lingering beneath the surface. She swiped at them quickly, never giving them a chance fall down her cheeks. Her hands now wrapped protectively around her stomach; Annie made an attempt to advance towards him, but stopped when Woody pulled away. She took a few steps back and removed her hands from her middle letting her arms drop limply. Woody shook his head, as if he was trying to clear the image in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned, biting his tongue upon hearing how harsh his tone sounded.

"I need you," Annie said, with a sad shrug. She swallowed the hard lump that had appeared in her throat. It landed like a brick in her stomach.

Needed him? For what? Annie hadn't needed anything from him in years. In fact, Woody wasn't completely positive that she even needed anything from him then either. She was fiercely independent. There was no way that he was buying that explanation. And surely she wouldn't come all the way to Boston with the intent of starting a relationship that had been so clearly over for such a long time.

"I…I," she began, unable to stand the silence. But she couldn't exactly choke out the sentence. In fact she couldn't get past that one word. Her eyes filled with tears once more, but this time her hands remained at her side.

Woody bridged the extensive gap between them, placing a comforting arm around her slumped shoulders. He wasn't quite sure if it was out of habit, guilt, or just the fact that ever since his mother, it made him ache to see a woman cry. Annie, not seeming to care the reason for his sudden comfort, fell into him. Her small hands grabbed at his suit, her body almost convulsing with sobs. Woody felt his arms instinctively wrap around her, rocking her slowly. His hands found their way to her hair, her back, settling upon her waist.

As if suddenly aware and embarrassed of her actions, Annie stepped out of the embrace. She wiped her face, using the sleeve of her sweater, like a young child would. Woody's face twisted in confusion.

"Annie, _what _is going on?" he demanded. "Why are you here? What's wrong?"

The tips of his fingers brushed away the remaining tears on her cheeks and her chin. Annie reached out and smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt, the fabric crumpled from her fists. He stopped her roving hands with his own and held them hard.

"Tell me what you're doing here Annie," Woody stated firmly. "What's going on?"

"I need you," she told him feebly.

Woody shook his head again. This was not the Annie he remembered; she seemed so vulnerable and broken.

"_Why_ Annie?" he stressed.

"I had to go somewhere safe," Annie said. "And I always felt safe with you."

"Had to go somewhere safe?" Woody echoed, releasing her hands from his grip. "What do you mean? Are you in some kind of trouble Annie?"

He watched as she jerked her head back and forth quickly. Shrugging her slim shoulders, Annie tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and then shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans. She looked so small and helpless. Woody didn't know what to tell her. He had never seen her this shaken before, this weak. And he couldn't just let her feel that way. No one should ever have to feel that way. She had come to him. Why, he couldn't quite understand yet.

"If you need me, for whatever reason, to help you, to feel safe," Woody said. "Then I'll be here for you."

"Thank you," she whispered with a nod.

Woody's face melted into a sort of soft smile. His hand reached out to cup her face, his thumb passing over her lips. When it gently grazed over the swollen and bruised gash, Annie winced and pulled away from his touch. Realization hit Woody hard and he cursed himself for being so stupid, for not seeing it the moment he stepped foot in the room.

"Is that why you're here?" he inquired quietly, an almost horrified edge to his question.

"Woody, please," her eyes pleaded.

"Please what? Jesus Annie, what the hell is going on here?" he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"It's not like that, I promise," Annie countered.

"Then what's it like? You have to tell me what's wrong. Annie…"

A loud rapping at the door interrupted what was sure to become a very heated conversation between the former flames. The door swung open and a blond head appeared.

"Detective Hoyt, dispatch is on the line," Flynn informed him.

"Get someone else on it," Woody ordered.

Flynn bobbed his head, familiar with no nonsense tone in Woody's voice, and removed himself from the doorway.

Woody stared at Annie, his hands set on his hips and his mouth drawn in a tight line. Her face fell slightly, her lips pulling into a frown. She could feel hot tears stinging behind her eyes under his intense gaze. Annie's hands began to tremble and she clasped them together as if to will them to stop shaking.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, blinking back tears. "I shouldn't have come. I had no right…"

"Annie," Woody sighed, his head falling back as he blew out a large puff of air.

"I just didn't know where to turn," Annie whimpered. "I thought of you first."

"Don't be sorry," he walked over to her placing an arm around her waist and a light kiss upon her temple. "C'mon."

It took a small push to get her legs moving towards the door, but soon Annie followed him. She grabbed her brown, leather purse that sat on the table, the only thing that she had brought with her and leaned into Woody, her quivering hands and tears seeming to subside. Stopping by his desk, Woody plucked a few files from a rather messy pile and dropped his cell phone into the pocket of his pants.

"Flynn I'm heading out," Woody notified the mildly confused officer. "Reach me on my cell."

"Sure thing Detective," Flynn replied, his mouth agape at the fact that Hoyt was leaving with the brunette.

Woody shot him a look that Flynn knew just as well as that tone in his voice, promptly closed his mouth and watched the two exit the building.

It was indeed raining. Pouring. The drops fell heavy, splashing to the ground. As Woody hurried to his old, beat up car, he noticed that Annie walked behind him slowly, her fingers gently touching her swollen lip. She was thoroughly soaked when she sat down in the passenger seat.

"Trying to catch your death?" he asked somewhat hotly.

"Hmm?" Annie answered, distracted.

Woody flipped on the heat and handed her his suit jacket. She slipped into the garment and pulled it close around her. Woody couldn't help but notice how tiny she looked with it on, almost as if she was drowning in enormous coat.

"I'll take you to my apartment," he told her, pulling out of his parking space and onto the streets of downtown Boston. "We'll get you cleaned up and then you and I are going to have one hell of talk."

Annie merely nodded, a faint smile coming to her lips as she snuggled further into the jacket. And although it had been so long since Woody had seen her smile, this one broke his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** _As always, nada, I repeat, NADA belongs to me_

**AN:** _Sorry it took so long to get a chapter of this up, but I've just been going back and forth with the exact direction that I wanted to take the story in. I think I've settled on something that I'm happy with. That being said, I hope everyone else it happy with it too. For those who reviewed, scroll on down to the bottom, there's some thanks and questions answered. Enjoy!_

Woody jarringly parked the car in the space and gave a sideways glance in Annie's direction. The light grin that had decorated her pretty mouth when they had left the station had disappeared quickly, replaced with a frown. She hadn't spoken since they left, nor had she looked at him. Instead, Annie remained silent, staring out the rain streaked window. Her fist was pressed firmly against her lips, as if keeping them closed. Woody flipped off the radio and began to unbuckle his seatbelt, still looking at her.

"We're here," he announced after a beat.

She turned to him, the same faint smile trying to overcome her lips, but losing the battle. Shaking her head, Annie too, unbuckled herself and exited the car along with Woody.

It had stopped raining somewhere on the way, but the air was still cool. As the breeze whipped past them, Annie shivered and retreated deeper into Woody's jacket. She slipped her hands deep into the pockets and around her middle, closing the coat across her body. Woody had grabbed her large purse from the car and held it tightly. He motioned with his free hand for her to follow him.

Reaching the door to his studio apartment, Woody fumbled around for his keys and let the bag fall to the floor with a loud thump. Annie crouched down to grab for it before any more of the contents spilled out. Woody, having now opened the door, knelt beside her to help.

"It's fine," she insisted, gathering up her phone, lipstick and some crumpled scraps of paper.

"Alright," he nodded and stood.

"Thank you," Annie whispered and pushed past him into the apartment.

"Welcome," Woody murmured in response.

Annie set her purse down on the counter and stripped herself of the wet jacket. Running her slender hands through her damp hair, she let out an uneasy sigh. She could tell from the stern look on Woody's face that he wanted to get into it as soon as possible. But he just wiped a hand across the back of his neck and loosened his tie.

"That all you bring?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of her purse. Annie sort of shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Well, I'll lend you some clothes, can't stand around all drenched."

"Thank you," she repeated.

This time Woody said nothing in return, only wordlessly retreated into his bedroom. He emerged not too long after, barefoot in a pair of old jeans and T-shirt, holding a similar outfit in his hands.

"Bathroom's right there," he pointed to a door behind Annie and tossed her the clothes. "Just hang the wet stuff on the shower rod."

"Okay," she replied.

Woody stood; staring at the door as it clicked closed behind her. Although he still hadn't made heads or tails of exactly what she was doing here, he knew it had something to do with that gash on her lower lip. Their exchange at the station had told him that much. And, if it was what Woody was thinking of, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Or what he was supposed to do. Why she had come to him specifically for help? There must have been somebody else that she could have turned to. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and took a seat atop his kitchen table.

"They're a little big," Annie stated softly.

At the sound of her voice, Woody turned his head. The clothes were more than a little big. Just as his jacket had swallowed Annie, she drowned in the large shirt and sweatpants. Tugging uncomfortably at the old shirt that read _'Wisconsin: Come Cut the Cheese'_, she sat in one of the chairs around the table. Woody had always liked the look of Annie in his clothes. Of course back then, Woody had liked the look of Annie even more in the absence of clothing altogether. Woody hopped off the table and took a seat beside her.

"So, you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

She averted her eyes from his gaze. Woody reached out and tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to look at him. His thumb passed over her lips and lightly across the deep wound. Annie flinched.

"Have something to do with that I'm guessing?" Woody inquired in a worried voice. He wanted so badly for it not to be what he was thinking.

"I swore I would never be one of those women," she said quietly.

"What women?"

"A woman who lets her husband hit her," Annie admitted, her head dropping again. She quickly wiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks. Woody gently reached for her hands. As his fingers curled over hers, he could feel the diamond of her wedding ring digging lightly into his palm.

"So Carl did that to you?" Woody tried to suppress the anger that had began to boil in his stomach.

"We've been having problems for awhile now. Mostly after my dad died," she started. "The first time it happened I couldn't even believe it. And he seemed so sorry after. He apologized over and over. I didn't know what to do."

"I thought it wasn't like that," he growled. "Christ! How did this happen?"

"I don't know! It didn't seem so horrible after, like it maybe didn't happen at all. He kept telling me he was sorry, that he loved me and I just didn't think…" More tears formed behind her eyes. "It's not like I just let it happen Woody. I didn't think he would do it again. And then…"

"How many other times were there?" he pressed, letting his detective instincts take over.

"Not many," Annie shook her head and removed her hands from Woody's, brushing away her tears. Woody gave her a disbelieving look.

"How many Annie?" he repeated.

"Three, maybe four. I just…" she broke off her sentence. "I had to get away from him. So, I came here. To you."

"Annie," Woody breathed. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. What he should say. He did know, however, that more than anything he wanted to wring Carl's neck with his bare hands. "Did you go to the police?"

"No," she mumbled. "You're the only other person who knows besides Lauren. You remember Lauren Ingram?"

Woody remembered. She had been one of Annie's friends in college. Last Woody had heard, Lauren was married, had three kids and moved to Connecticut.

"You need to go to the police Annie," he stated solemnly. She began to open her mouth in protest. "Annie I can't do much in Boston. There's jurestriction."

"It's complicated Woody…I," Annie started. She was having trouble getting through her sentences, the words kept getting caught in the back of her throat. Inhaling a shaky breath she began once more. "I had to come to you, because I needed somebody I could trust."

"What else aren't you telling me?" Woody's eyes became narrowed slits as he looked at her both questioningly and critically.

"It's…I can't…" she heaved a sigh that came out in waves through her trembling lips.

"Annie, you just said you could trust me. That's why you came here, because you felt safe with me. So if there's more…" Woody's heart began to race as he said the words. But it would be nothing compared to how he would feel after what she was about to tell him.

"I do trust you Woody and that's why I came to you," Annie paused and placed a hand on her chest as if that would force the words out or slow her now heavy breathing. "But there's another reason. I knew if I came here to Boston that I'd be safe and I knew that Molly would be safe too."

"Molly?" Woody's eyebrows rose in confusion. "Who's Molly?"

"Molly is my daughter," she answered quietly.

"Your daughter?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. That's why Lauren knows. She agreed to take care of her while I was here. And Connecticut isn't too far," Annie explained.

"Are you kidding me Annie?" Woody pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "You can't just take your child and leave the state. Carl could charge you with kidnapping."

"He won't," she insisted.

"How do you know? Annie, I know you think that you're not in trouble here, but you are."

"Look he won't think to look for me here and if he does, he won't have any idea where Molly is. Please Woody, you have to help me," she whimpered.

Woody shook his head and sighed. Exactly what did she expect him to do? He couldn't very well march back to Wisconsin and give Carl what he had coming to him, no matter how much he wanted to. And now she was telling him that she had a child? What on earth was she coming to him for? He didn't even have the slightest clue what he was supposed to do with all the problems that she had decided to dump in his lap.

"I just don't understand why you came to me," he said, still shaking his head.

"With my father…" Annie's eyes welled up with tears and she shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I had to get away from Carl. And I had to get Molly away from him too."

"Listen to me Annie, I can be here as your friend, but…" Woody paused and looked at her face. Her tearstained cheeks were red, making her freckles blurry through the splotches; her eyes were swollen from crying and then there was her lip, cut and bruised.

"Any way I can help, I will," he told her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Reaching across the table, Woody hugged her tightly. She didn't cling to him like she had before, just stayed in his arms. Annie just didn't have the strength anymore. She had been through too much, too soon.

"Why don't you lie down?" Woody suggested, wiping the remaining tears from her face with his shirt. "I need to make some calls and you need the rest."

"I don't think I could sleep," she said.

"Just try," he pressed the issue, pointing to his bedroom. "I'll take care of everything, I promise."

"Thank you," she repeated, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

Woody nodded, still not sure how he was going to 'take care of everything'. He watched her walk into his room and shut the door. Looking around his apartment, he let his head fall into his hands. What the hell was going to do?

**FrenchKissingWoody:** Thanks! Glad you liked it.

**RoxieHart1: **Thank you. I hope to do 'a lot of stuff with it'. LOL, or something along those lines.

**Tez:** Well that's what happens next. As for Jordan, she'll probably make an appearance in the next chapter. And due to Annie's situation, she'll most likely have a strong reaction. Wait and see ;)

**Kimmers:** So that's the reason Annie is there. Mostly…

Hope y'all enjoyed. And oodles of thanks for the kind reviews!


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